Written in the Stars
by NostalgicSchemer
Summary: Alfred certainly wasn't any knight in shining armor. His tie was crooked, his hair still wet and wind swept, probably from running, his glasses askew and... US/UK


The fire crackled quietly in front of them in their shared house, warming them. Blue eyes looked down at the blond resting against his shoulder, green eyes on the verge of closing. A smile tilted the usually obnoxious American's lips, the firelight causing his eyes to glow warmer.

It was one of the few times they weren't yelling at each other for some reason or another and he was going to savor it. Just the thought that Arthur was here with him at all was enough to make him warm and fuzzy. It was as if a part of his heart was filled when the Briton was near.

The knowledge, at the time he had gotten it, had caused him to choke on his hamburger, to which the Briton laughed and given him an hour's worth of 'I told you so's. He had just shrugged it off and gone back to his speech about alternative fuel.

Alfred sighed softy, shoulders slumping very slightly as he watched the blond beside him nod off. Moving his unpinned hand, he pushed Texas back up his nose, his hand continuing up to run through his usual unruly hair. "Hey, you should go to bed, Arthur," he said softly. Sleep-filled green eyes cracked open and Alfred felt his breath catch when the older nation nuzzled his arm lightly. "Arthur?"

"Shut up, Alfred. You're too loud," Arthur muttered into the taller male's arm, though made no move to pull away. Alfred laughed, causing the Briton to growl and punch him sleepily. Arthur let out a sudden yelp as he was lifted up, clutching at Alfred's shoulders. "W-what in the hell do you think you're doing, git?"

"Carrying you to bed," Alfred stated simply, not bothered by the weight in his arms. He chuckled as more protests left the man's lips but paid them no mind, knowing they were halfhearted at most. He laid Arthur down and pulled his shoes off for him then tucked him under the covers. While Alfred smoothed down the blankets slightly, he glanced at Arthur, shaking his head. He was already asleep.

Giving into his guilty pleasure, he sat on the edge of he bed and watched him. So much pain had passed between them over the years and he knew the cause for most of it. How could he not? He was oblivious to almost everything but what mattered the most to him. And what did matter was Arthur. Whenever he saw the older nation get that far away look in his eyes, he'd go out of his way to act like the idiot everyone expected him to to snap him back to the present.

His own eyes misted over as he thought about the last time he had taken Arthur out drinking. The man couldn't hold his liquor on any occasion and Alfred had heard a few of the man's insecurities on that particular night.

"_Was it really so bad being my little brother?" Arthur asked, his flushed cheek pressing to the table. His eyes were unfocused, as if reminiscing on the past. "I know I wasn't a perfect older brother but... What did I do to make you leave?"_

Alfred shook his head and looked down at the sleeping nation. "You were—are—a great older brother, Iggy," he said quietly, not wanting to wake him up. "But I needed to grow up so that I could take care of you..." He moved, the backs of his knuckles trailing down Arthur's cheek, only to move and press a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Arthur," he whispered before getting off of the bed and heading out to his own room.

When morning came, Arthur was back to normal. "What is _that_?" he sneered at the breakfast laid out on the table. Alfred stood at the stove, a plain apron on his front to keep his clothes from getting dirty. After all, there was a meeting today.

"I believe it's called pancakes and eggs, Iggy," Alfred stated with a lopsided grin. Arthur grumbled but sat down and began eating, though refused to touch the coffee that was laid out. He jumped, however, when a teacup was placed on the saucer next to his plate. When he looked up, he could've sworn he saw a blush reaching Alfred's ears.

"Hm... Thanks," Arthur muttered, sipping at his tea. If he was surprised at the flavorful taste that met him, not too sweet or bitter, he didn't show it.

"So, how's Francey-pants treating you?" Alfred as he flipped another pancake. He wouldn't turn and look at his former caretaker as he asked this. It was no question that there was more than meets the eye as far as relationships went between the two older nations and it left Alfred with sometimes endless nights of grief.

"...He's treating me well though I don't know how any of that is your business," Arthur stated, voice clipped and Alfred internally flinched. Forcing on a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he shut the stove off and came over with his stack of pancakes and began eating. "Why the sudden curiosity about my relationship, Alfred?"

"No reason; just felt the need to ask," the American nation said, not meeting the inquisitive green eyes focused on him. He cleared his throat, the meal over far too soon. "Don't worry about the dishes, Artie, I'll get them when I get back," he said, noticing that the nation in question was rolling his sleeves up.

"It won't take me long at all," Arthur said, reaching to turn the sink on. His wrist was grabbed and he looked up at Alfred.

"I need something to do later," Alfred answered, tugging him away from the sink. "Besides, we'll be late to the meeting if you do that."

Arthur's brow furrowed, as if trying to figure out where this responsibility had been hiding. Nonetheless, he went upstairs and got dressed for the meeting. When he came back down, he could hear the car outside and rolled his eyes before heading out.

The ride to the meeting building was short but with the silence in the car, it seemed to take forever. There was no music playing, either because Arthur complained about whatever was playing or because the radio was busted... Probably the latter.

Exiting the car and heading inside, the two began their usual routine of bickering, though it was cut short when Francis appeared and attached himself to Arthur's lips. Alfred watched, pain clenching at his chest though he just forced a grin and a laugh and proceeded to call the meeting to order. About halfway through it, Francis brought up the yearly ball for the nations that was being held the next night.

Alfred didn't care that the other nations were conversing excitedly about it. He instead watched quietly, listening to words that flowed through the air. His eyes were trained on the couple across the table, Francis' lips plastered to Arthur's. With an excuse no one heard, he stood up, gathered his papers, and left the meeting room.

The following day found him laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His blue eyes were unfocused, partially hidden beneath his wet hair.

"Aren't you going to the dance, Alfred?" Toni asked, his gray hand prodding the American's thigh. Alfred's leg twitched.

"I don't know... It'd just make me leave early to get drunk because I was too _stupid_ to tell Arthur how I felt beforehand." Alfred mumbled, gripping his glasses in his hand slightly as it laid beside his head.

"...You should go," the alien stated as it went over to Alfred's closet and threw it open. "I was looking forward to having the house to myself for a few hours anyway,"

Alfred snorted and sat up. "It's not like I have a—Hey, what are you getting out?" he yelped. Toni pulled out a suit and threw it at him in a way that spoke of certain death if he didn't go.

With a resigned sigh, he got dressed and tried to comb his hair in a 'presentable' fashion. Deciding he was looking as best as he could, he washed his glasses then headed out.

The drive to the dance hall was silent, Alfred's hands clenching the steering tightly. Once parked, he took a moment to calm himself down only to get out of the car and walk inside, devoid of most of his usual confidence. When he opened the door, classical music hit his ears and he swallowed the lump in his throat. The last time he had listened to classical music like this, he was under Arthur's care.

Shaking the thought from his head, he walked inside and made his way into the crowd. Not many people were dancing but the night was young. _Too young,_ he thought in disdain.

Hours passed and the classical music slowly morphed into the kind he was used to. It seemed the DJ had arrived and taken over the Austrian's entertainment. Soon bodies were dancing on the dance floor. Alfred would join in once in a while but mostly he just stood off to the side, watching a couple. His lips were a thin line as he watched the Frenchman's hands wandered over Arthur's body, despite how many times the Englishman slapped them away. Finally, Arthur broke away from Francis for some air.

Spotting Alfred, Arthur walked over, raising an eyebrow. "Why aren't you dancing, git?" he asked breathlessly, face flushed.

Alfred shrugged a shoulder. "I'm just not feeling it tonight, I guess," he said. Arthur rolled his eyes but went to get something to drink. A familiar yelp was heard and Alfred found himself automatically rushing towards the sound.

"I can't believe you, Francis!" Arthur spat, ignoring his lover's pleas for him to listen. "You've always been like this! I can't believe I fell for your fucking tricks again!" There were tears in Arthur's eyes and Alfred snapped.

He walked over, steps far more confident than any of his previous movements over the past two days, and slammed his fist into the Frenchman's cheek, sending him to the floor. He glanced at Arthur, only to grab his wrist and tug him away from everyone's prying eyes.

They left the dance and ended up at a park a few blocks away. Arthur was breathing heavily, attempting to keep his tears back. Sitting down in the grass, uncaring for his suit, Alfred tugged Arthur down into his lap and held him close. "Let it out, Artie," he whispered to the man.

It was silent for a scant few seconds before Arthur's head buried itself into Alfred's shoulder, hands gripping his shirt in a death grip. Tears and sobs left the man as Alfred held him. Eventually, the tears slowed, the sobs turning into hiccups and Arthur was asleep. Alfred kissed his forehead softly.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur... I love you," he whispered to him before lifting him up and carrying him back to his car. He laid Arthur in the back seat before heading home, glancing in the rear-view mirror once in a while to check on the man. Once home, he carried Arthur up to his room and laid him down. "Sleep well Artie," he whispered as he tucked him in. Seeing as he didn't have a clean guest room, he opted to stay downstairs on his couch.

The next morning found him yawning and waking up to the smoke detector. He yelped and jumped up, running to the kitchen, gripping the archway as his chest heaved. Soon, he was laughing at the scene in front of him.

Arthur stood at the stove, trying to cook eggs but... Well, they were more like rocks now. "Oh, shut up, will you?" Arthur growled to the smoke detector, opening the window. When he heard Alfred's laughter, he stiffened and turned, glaring death at him. "You can shut up to, you bloody yank!" he shouted, walking over and slapping Alfred's shoulder with the spatula, which only caused him to laugh harder.

Soon, however, Arthur's answer melted and he found himself laughing, clutching the edge of the stove. His laughter was cut short when he yelped, pulling his fingers away quickly to reveal the burns, a couple of C's, on his fingers. "Fuck!" he cursed, gripping his wrist. Alfred turned the stove off and tugged Arthur to the sink. Turning the cold water on, he stood behind his former caregiver and held his hand under the water, uncaring that he was getting his own hand wet.

"I'll be your hero," he said softly, though it was more teasing than anything. Arthur tensed in front of him before relaxing and clenching his eyes shut. "Artie?"

"I told you not to call me that," the Briton snapped, though it had lost it's usual bark. Alfred pulled away, the shorter blond immediately missing the contact but wouldn't dare voice it. He jumped when his hand was moved from the soothing water and gently dried before some aloe was applied to the burns, then wrapped up. He glanced up, his breath catching when he saw the look of concentration in those sky blue eyes.

"Eh he he, sorry Arthur. Habit I guess," Alfred said, his eyes moving from Arthur's bandaged hand to look at him, a light smile on his lips. Arthur found himself frozen. When had Alfred gotten this handsome?

_He's been this handsome for years,_ his mind supplied. _You were always preoccupied with arguing with him to notice._

The trance was broken when Alfred moved and packed the first aid kit back up. Standing, he returned the plastic box to the cupboard above the fridge. "What were you trying to make anyway?" Alfred asked, looking over the rocks in the pan, prodding one with a fork.

Arthur flushed in anger. "Stop making fun of my cooking!" he yelled out. Alfred laughed and quickly washed the pan before setting it back on the stove, beginning to make a simple breakfast for the two of them.

"I was just asking what you were making; I said nothing about how horrible your cooking was," Alfred pointed out, laughing more as he dodged a salt shaker.

Months passed and the two were getting closer. Often times, when they could get the days off, they were seen frequenting restaurants, (normally McDonald's if it was Alfred's turn to choose) or ice shaking rinks, ("C'mon, Artie, I'll catch you if you fall!" "Shut up, you bloody wanker!") or when neither wanted to go anywhere, Alfred's house where movies awaited them.

New Year's was one fun event. Instead of joining the other nations, Arthur and Alfred instead opted to just go to the park. They didn't walk hand in hand, they didn't say any cliche _I love you_'s and they didn't sit and watch the fireworks for long. Instead, they watched the other couples for a while, Arthur with a pained expression hidden behind a look of disgust and Alfred with envy.

When they made it back to Alfred's house, they wrote their resolutions down on a piece of paper and set them aflame, Alfred giving a triumphant smile.

More months sped by, the world meetings filling up the majority of the year. When it came to the yearly dance, Alfred decided it was time to put his plan into motion.

After begging Arthur to come to the dance, if only to get free food, and finally getting him to agree, Alfred grinned and said he'd meet him there. He sped off after the meeting to get ready, hoping he wouldn't lose track of time.

At the dance, Arthur stood against the wall, watching the couples dancing. He frowned and checked his watch for the tenth time since he had showed up. Still no Alfred. "He's just playing with me," Arthur grumbled. When another slow song came on, he decided he was fed up and made his way to the exit.

A hand on his wrist stopped him. His heart sped up in his chest, green eyes widened. "Let go of me, Frog," he spat, thinking it was Francis. A familiar laugh met his ears and he slowly turned to see Alfred standing there, blue eyes twinkling.

"I don't think I'm quite _that_ bad, Artie," he grinned, pulling Arthur closer. "Sorry it took so long. I wanted to take a nap so that I could give you all my time tonight and... Well, I slept later than anticipated,"

Arthur looked him over. Alfred certainly wasn't any knight in shining armor. His tie was crooked, his hair still wet and wind swept, probably from running, his glasses askew and _he's smiling at me_.

Arthur had tears in his eyes, but he didn't notice. "May I have this dance?" Alfred asked, giving a bow. He stood up straight to see Arthur's answer. Numbly, Arthur nodded and allowed himself to be pulled closer to Alfred, allowed the hand that set itself on his waist, his own resting on Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred's smile softened as he took Arthur's free hand and placed it on his heart, slowly leading him into a dance. He watched the way the lights made Arthur glow and parted his lips.

"_Stay with me, don't fall asleep too soon—The angels can wait for a moment..._" he murmured along to the song. Arthur's eyes widened, his heart beating faster. He glanced down at the hand, his hand, on Alfred's chest. He could feel the heart, beating fast but steady, beneath his had. "_Come real close, forget the world outside. Tonight we're alone—It's finally you and I,_"

"Alfred," Arthur whispered, looking around subconsciously, as if expecting the others to be watching them.

"_It wasn't meant to feel like this; not without you... Cos when I look at my life, how the pieces fall into place, it just wouldn't rhyme without you,_"

"Alfred, stop," Arthur whispered, biting his lip. Alfred shook his head, a soft smile on his face as he continued dancing. If Arthur had really wanted him to stop, he would've left his arms.

"_When I see how my path seemed to end up before your face: the state of my heart, the place where we are, was written in the stars,_" Alfred sang with the song. He knew his voice was probably cracking with nervousness but he couldn't bring himself to care.

His arms slowly moved to wrap around Arthur, pulling him closer, he kissed his forehead softly. "_Don't be afraid, I'll be right by your side though the laughter and pain—Together we're bound to fly. I wasn't meant to love like this—not without you,_"

Arthur buried his head into Alfred's chest, gripping his shirt tighter as tears spilled down his cheeks. Alfred's chin came to rest on top his head. He felt his heart clench. Maybe he should stop... He internally shook his head and continued singing softly. "_Cos when I look at my life, how the pieces fall into place, it just wouldn't rhyme without you,_"

"Alfred, p-please..." Arthur whispered, sobbing softly. Alfred's arms tightened around him.

"_When I see how my path seemed to end up before your face: the state of my heart, the place where we are, was written in the stars,_"

"Afred F. Jones, stop singing," Arthur growled through his tears. The tips of his ears were red but his only response was to have one of his ears kissed.

"_I made a few mistakes, yeah, like sometimes we do... Been though 'lot of heartache, but I made it back to you..._"

Alfred didn't notice the glare he was getting from Francis, and honestly he couldn't care less. He had Arthur in his arms, even if it was only temporary.

"_Cos when I look at my life, how the pieces fall into place, it just wouldn't rhyme without you,_" he whispered. His heart was pounding, each beat being painful as another wracked sob left Arthur. "_And when I see how my path seemed to end up before your face: the state of my heart, the place where we are, was written in the stars,_"

"Damnit, Alfred, stop bloody singing!" Arthur weakly spat out, his hands gripping Alfred's shirt tighter. If he were in his right mind, he would've strangled the idiot with his tie.

"_When I look at m life, how the pieces fall into place, it just wouldn't rhyme without you,_" Alfred continued on, his voice softer as he set his mouth near Arthur's ear. "_When I see how my path seemed __to end up before your face: the state of my heart, the place where are, was written in the stars._"

"Alfred, if you don't stop, I-I'll... I'll never talk to you again!" Arthur said childishly. Alfred smiled very slightly.

"_The state of my heart, the place where we are..._" He pulled his head back and tilted Arthur's head up. "_Was written in the stars..._" As the song came to an end, he pressed his lips to Arthur's praying that if he died, Arthur would at least remember him as more than a bumbling idiot.

He pulled back from the one-sided kiss, feeling his heart shatter in his chest. He looked down at the man he had come to love and gave a weak smile. "I love you, Arthur," he whispered, closing his eyes softly before kissing his forehead. He lingered for a minute before he pulled back and turned to leave.

_Maybe it's for the best. I mean, I was only ever a little brother to him, right?_ Alfred thought, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. His exit was blocked by a red-faced Briton, tears in his fiery green eyes. Alfred looked at him, waiting for the rejection.

Instead, he got a punch to the face. A hard one. Hard enough to send him to the floor. "What the fuck was that for?" he asked, holding his cheek. His answer came in the form of Arthur straddling him, uncaring who saw now.

"That was for singing," he spat. Alfred opened his mouth to retort when all sound was blocked by a pair of lips pressing hard against his. His heart suddenly leaped up into his throat, his hand coming up to tangle in messy blond hair as he kissed back. Arthur pulled back, panting, flushed and _oh, so beautiful_. "And _that_," he started, gripping Alfred's shoulders tightly. Alfred panted as well, looking up at him. Texas was askew on his face again and it was making it difficult to see.

"That?" Alfred prodded, cursing himself for sounding so hopeful.

"That was for singing," Arthur supplied.

Hours later found them both curled around each other in Alfred's bed, the larger of the two holding the other against him. "I love you," he whispered to what he thought was his sleeping lover. He closed his blue eyes, about to drift off. His eyes cracked open when he felt a light pressure of lips against his and returned it.

"I love you too, Alfred," Arthur whispered, laying his head on Alfred's chest and looking out the window.

The stars twinkled endlessly and a single flash across the sky made Arthur smile. It was unnecessary to wish for anything. It was asleep and already drooling on his pillow below him.


End file.
